Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
He places me down on the sofa and squats down in front of me, taking my face in his hands. “You’re goin’ to need stitches.”
“That bad, huh?” I mumble.
“Yeah, that bad. Want me to call an ambulance or I can drive you.”
“We’ll drive, I don’t need to put on a show.”
His lip twitches and he stands, telling me to hand him my keys and then he helps me out to my car. I get in the passenger seat and he drives, neither of us saying anything until we arrive at the hospital.
“Thank you,” I say before we get out of the car. “For helping me.”
He nods.
Then we get out and he takes me into the emergency room. I’m helped in minutes, probably because I’m bleeding, more than I realized. I’m taken in and admitted for the night because of the injuries. They want to make sure I don’t have any issues with my brain, considering that motherfucker punched me a lot. Not to mention the kick at the end.
They give me some decent pain killers and tell me they have to call the police. I tell the police I didn’t see who they were, and I was just walking down the street alone at night. I’m not about to tell them the bikers took off with the three dudes and they’re probably never going to see the light of day again. While I’m doing all of this, Riggs stands in the corner, arms crossed, just intimidating the doctors and police officers with his powerful demeanor.
When they’re all finally gone, he pushes away from the wall and walks over to where I’m lying in bed, all stitched up and drugged out of my mind.
I feel great.
“I have to go and make sure the boys dealt with those three motherfuckers properly. You good here?”
“Are you going to kill them?” I ask, not even hesitating.
Probably the drugs.
Riggs stares at me, then slowly nods.
My eyes pop open. “Wow, so you’re actually real bikers.”
He looks like he’s fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “Killing people makes us real bikers?”
“Well, yeah, I guess it does. I mean, you seemed a bit tame if I’m being honest. Like you were trying to be bikers, but not really ...”
He crosses his arms. “Just because you don’t see our business don’t mean we’re not out there doin’ shit that would make you squirm.”
I grin, high as a kite. “Like what?”
“I’m not discussing that with you.”
“Oh, so nothing. You’re probably all in there braiding each other’s hair while talking about the next bike you’re going to purchase.”
“Sweet Jesus.”
“Until I see otherwise, that’s what I’m going with.” I grin, crossing my arms and leaning back.
“You’re high as fuck.”
“Yes, sir, I am.”
“I’m goin’ to let you sleep it off while I busy myself braiding hair.”
I giggle.
He grins.
Our eyes meet.
There is something there, I can’t be imagining it.
Why would he do so much for me if there wasn’t?
It doesn’t make any sense.
The way he’s looking at me, no man, and I mean no man, has ever looked at me like that before. He has this warmth in his eyes, not just lust but deep appreciation. He looks at me like he cares.
I think it’s the drugs talking.
Maybe I need to go to sleep.
And yet ... my mouth opens and I say, “Why did you use me, Riggs? That is unfair play.”
He tips his head to the side slightly. “Might be how it started, wasn’t how it ended.”
“So you do care about me?”
He doesn’t answer, he just stares at me.
“I feel something, Riggs. I know you do, too. I know you care, I just don’t know why we have to play this game and go round and round instead of just admitting what’s really going on here.”
God. These drugs are really doing a number on me.
He steps forward and leans down close, my heart skips a beat and I take in a deep breath. “Don’t care about anyone like that, Sparkler. Sorry to break it to you.”
Then he presses a kiss to my forehead, holding his lips there for long moments before straightening and walking out.
No.
Come back.
I watch him go, pain in my heart.
What does he mean he cares about no one?
Does that mean me, too?
God, why am I wasting my time?
What is wrong with me?
TWO WEEKS LATER
“UGH!” I ROLL TO MY side, pressing the pillow over my head.
Riggs is at it again, partying loud. Every single damned night since I got out of that hospital, he has been doing it. He hasn’t come to see me, hasn’t checked on me, and hasn’t bothered to do anything but party and drink himself stupid. Ever since our little moment at the hospital, he has avoided me completely.
I have my answer, loud and clear.
He wants nothing to do with me, and my question at the hospital clearly made him realize that.